Without the wall spread fields of wheat and barley, of millet and of flax. Women and men went to the fields. Outside, too, slid a slow, murmuring brook. Women washed here, and on the banks in the sun women bleached webs that women wove. And near by, in a shady place, they had vats where they dyed their webs. Without the wall was the clayey place where bricks were made and dried and here also was a rude rope-walk. Men and women made brick, and cords and rope, though more men than women. But within the wall women moved in the greatest number and here the industries were chiefly theirs. And again, where men worked, without wall or within wall, they were, with some exceptions, the slower, the gentler, the older, the less strong of body among men. These, and bondmen, of whom there were many. Gone from the town were trading bands, and a war-band raiding the tents of trespassers, and a hunting band. At home, however, stayed Dardin the magic-man and his sons, and Saba the harp-player, and Kadoumin the wily, and others. But all the women stayed in the town or in the fields just without—the strong and the young women with the old and the weak, the skilled with the dull, the adventurous with the sluggish, those without children with those who had children, branching natures with sheathed natures, travelling minds with rooted minds. Kamilil the magic-woman said that once women wandered abroad like men. Not just like men, for there were always the children, but yet wandered and hunted and fought. But few really believed Kamilil. As things were, so must they always have been!
Vana went to see Bardanin her brother. She took with her her eldest son, a boy straight as a reed, strong as a master bow, and handsome as a deer of the hills. As they went through the lanes of the town all remarked the two. Vana herself had “looks.” Moreover, none failed of knowing how skilful she was and richer than most. Every one knew every one else, and what they did and how they did it.
Bardanin was a hunter. He lived in a house by the wall, and he had just returned with his son Targad from hunting in the hills that bordered the plain. They had brought two antelope and had cast them down upon the ground beneath a tree. Vana found Bardanin and Targad seated beside the house door, between them a bowl of lamb’s flesh and a platter of barley cakes. They welcomed her and she sat down near them. While they ate she watched the women of the household lift and shoulder the game beneath the tree and carry it to the open-air place of all work behind the house.
Said Bardanin: “Hunting is not what it used to be.—Mardurbo has not returned?”
“No. He was going to the people between the rivers and the people by the sea. He will gather handful and armful.... Bardanin, my brother, it is hard that this boy and the four I have left at home will not have Mardurbo’s wealth when he dies!”
Bardanin broke a barley cake. “The five will have your wealth—and it is known that you gather by the handful!”
“What matters that when Mardurbo gathers by the armful? Mardurbo will be the richest man between the hills and the sea. Why should Kadoumin who has twelve fields have Mardurbo’s wealth?”
“Kadoumin is his brother.”
“Bardanin, I know that! But I ask are not his children nearer to Mardurbo than is Kadoumin?”
Bardanin stared at his sister. He was a great hunter, but a slow mind. Targad laughed. Bardanin drank from a pitcher of milk, then set the vessel down thoughtfully. “Nearer in his liking,” said Bardanin. “Just as I like Targad and his brothers and sisters more than I like my own brothers and sisters. But if the lion that we met had slain me my goods would belong to my kindred. Targad and the others take their mother’s goods.”